


Waste It On Me

by gabrielle607



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: A female elf with short hair because we don't get to see much, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Battle for Helm's Deep, Death, Elf Sex, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Helm's Deep, It's really just an excuse for me to practice writing smut, Lothlórien, Mirkwood, Oral Sex, PTSD Original Character, PTSD Thranduil, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rivendell | Imladris, Rohan, Romance, Second Age, Sex, Smut, Talks and thoughts about death, Third Age, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole, Thranduil bein an asshole BECAUSE he's confused with his feelings AND mourning, Thranduil being an asshole, Two timelines at the same time, Vaginal Sex, War of the Last Alliance, battle of the five armies, though the benefits came first before the actual friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielle607/pseuds/gabrielle607
Summary: Everyone in the world has to be drunk on something. Money. Sex. Power. Rage. Mayari was drunk on neither, but had chosen to be drunk on something far more dangerous.The broken soldier had chosen to become drunk on the illusion of a love that never was -the love of an Elven King.No, this is not a love story between two elves where all ends well.This is a tale of disaster… A tale of love, and what came after.
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Character(s), Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Author's Note

Hello!

So, I've had this idea brewing in my mind for a while, now, and this is it. This is the shitstorm of an idea that I have conjured up. I congratulate you for finding your way here. Anyways, some stuff that I'd like you, the reader, to know before reading this fic.

Firstly, this would be told in a non chronological order, meaning there would be times when the chapter would begin in medias res, and the timeline won't be linear. Some chapters are going to jump from time to time (tho not always, don't worry).

Secondly, some mature themes would be tackled here, like talk of death and some m a t u r e scenes. Do not worry, I will put warnings at the beginning of chapters to give a head's up each chapter when I'll be tackling mature themes (and I'll say which parts)

Thirdly, I'll be using the different ages to define the setting in my chapters. So, just in case you, my dear reader, are not yet familiar with the chronological order of Ages and the corresponding events, S.A. means Second Age, while T.A. is Third Age. The story will yo-yo between those two ages.

Fourthly (?), being the scholar that I am, I am going to put my sources here in this author's note (though I'm afraid it's not in APA/Chicago style):

For Sindarin/Queenya Transalations - Elfdict.com

For any Lore/History - theonering.net + subreddits

Anyways, this whole story is an outlet for both my Thranduil/Lee Pace phase plus musings that I've been going through throughout the whole pandemic (also it's one of the ways I cope with the situation, and if you're Filipino, you can very well understand the depressing situation that we are in).

So, I hope that you, my dear reader, are doing well, and I hope that you like this think I put together. Please don't be afraid to voice out any thoughts/comments (as long they are constructive, and not destructive.

Enjoy (I hope)!

~ Gabrielle


	2. Prologue: A Sinner in Procession

_Translations:_

_**anon -** son (in Quenya)  
_

_**neth cóon -** Princeling (lit. Little Prince)_

_**Istoneth nin -** my teacher (lit. my knowledge giver)_

* * *

**T.A. 3018, October 24**

City of Imladris

* * *

Mayari drags the shrouded wagon behind her like a sinner would do in a procession for atonement.

However, what Mayari dragged behind her was not a meaningless procession for penance, but to help whatever poor soul would need the said contents of the wagon. She was bound to pass by the City of Imladris, and the poor soul that was in need of her craft was in luck. The wandering elleth made it a habit to avoid elven territories as she roamed the continent.

Although, Mayari could count the City of Imladris as an exception.

The hidden valley was known all over as a place of refuge for any race that may be in need of help. Mayari, whenever passing by, feels as if the dread and weariness from the millennias she had lived washes away with the water that pours over its ethereal falls. It was because of this that passing by Imladris once in a while was worth the risk for the wandering elleth.

The elleth was drawn from her thoughts when she had bumped into an ellon, who gave her a snooty look.

"Watch where you're going, _anon_." The elf told Mayari, shaking his head disapprovingly before turning back on his merry way. Mayari just huffed and continued to pull her wagon.

It was a common mistake for males of all races when they lay eyes upon the wandering elleth. Mayari knew that it was the hair. She had decided long ago to cut and maintain her brown tresses in a length that would rival a teenage boy from the race of men (in fact, hers was shorter). That is why for those who care not to look twice her way, she was often mistaken as a young boy, or a young elf.

_Give me a bottle of Dorwinion and a few hours with that prick, and let us see if he'll be calling me 'anon' once the night is over._

The wandering elleth weaved through the small crowd as she passed by the marketplace, pulling her hood down. Although it had been a force of habit, she had chosen to keep her face hidden in this city for other reasons -namely, she had observed that there had been new faces arriving the past few days. Just a few days ago, she saw two halflings wandering around, and later on, soldiers donning the colors and sigil of Gondor. Not to mention, a while ago, she had heard from the distance an undeniable gruff and rowdy commotion of a group of dwarves. Although it was not odd for a single human or dwarf to be seen wandering the city, having them in groups at the same time was rare to almost nonexistent. The last time Mayari had seen the need for people of different races to band together was nearly seven decades ago in the Battle of the Five Armies, and the War of the Last Alliance back in the Second Age.

Mayari felt her stomach tighten and her throat clench at the thought. The Lembas bread that she had consumed that afternoon for lunch was threatening to rise up her track, out to where it had first entered.

If a gathering of this kind was happening in Imladris, then Mayari needs to leave. Not that she had done unspeakable crimes against men or dwarves, but she did not want to be involved in whatever trouble that seems to be coming. She had already fought enough wars, killed enough beings, and seen enough horrors. She did not need more.

It was Mayari's quickened pace that caused her to run the wagon that she was pulling over someone's foot, a yelp sounding from behind her.

"Excuse me?!" She heard someone say behind her. Mayari sighed and turned, apology ready, but the words got caught up in her throat as she saw who the owner of the voice was. The blonde hair and stern brows (only when furrowed) was unmistakable.

"Mayari?" The crown prince said, and Mayari immediately averted her eyes and bowed.

"My prince Legolas, I did not realize that it was you. Please forgive me." Mayari said, her fist clenched. Although she had long left the Greenwood and denounced it as her home, the ellon before her was still a royalty from her kind.

"Please, Mayari, there is no need," It was when she felt a hand on her shoulder that she was ushered to stand upright. It had been decades since she last saw the fair haired prince. Although his face did not change, she could see from the look in his eyes that he had changed in ways that cannot be seen with the naked eye. Behind his eyes was a calmer spirit -nothing compared to the battle ready ellon that she knew decades ago. "We have been through so much and you have taught me so much that I cannot bear you to call me a prince, _istoneth nin_."

"If that is your wish." Mayari said, finding it difficult to look straight into the blue eyes of the elf she considered -still considers, her friend and quasi-pupil. 

"Also, you are older than me. It does not sound right when you call me anything else but neth cóon." The wandering elleth immediately found herself in a tight embrace from the elven prince, and Mayari tentatively returned the heartfelt hug.

"Legolas," She said, pulling away and picking up the handle of her wagon. "I would love nothing but to stay and ask how you have been," _Lies._ "But I have an errand to run."

"I see you have returned to your craft at carving coffins, then." Legolas observed, lifting the shrouded wagon to reveal a coffin carved into the shape of a boat.

The details on the coffin was intricate, as if it was well thought of by the carver. Indeed, Mayari herself had given deep thought about the design, reflecting an Eldar's journey to the Halls of Mandos. The whole coffin, shaped like a boat, was meant to give comfort for the grieving family that although the deceased had not lived to sail to Valinor together with their family, through death would they be able to sail peacefully and quickly to Valinor. Mayari then decorated the boat shaped coffin with vines and flowers crawling over it: chrysanthemums for death, lilies for peace, and ivy leaves to symbolize the eternal souls of the Eldar.

That was one of the many coffins that Mayari had carved throughout her lifetime, and it would not be the last of many more to come. The intricacies, thought, and detail that Mayari puts into the different coffins were enough to drive any coffin maker -both mortal and immortal, mad.

However, it was a small price to pay for Mayari to bring her waking thoughts elsewhere.

"Yes, and I have to deliver this coffin this afternoon, so if you would excuse me, I would take my leave." Mayari said, pulling on the wagon.

"Then I will come with you." Legolas, falling in stride with the wandering coffin maker as they wove through the market crowd.

"Oh, do not let me get in the way of your plans for today, _neth cóon_. I will be here in Imladris until the week is over."

It was a lie. The moment that she delivers this coffin to her customer and manages to shake the elven prince off of her presence, she'll be out of Imladris in a snap.

"Ah, that is where the problem lies, _mellon nin_. My day is occupied tomorrow, and if all does not go well tomorrow, I would have to immediately return home to report back to my father."

"Then I hope that all goes well, then, so that we may have a whole day all to ourselves the day after tomorrow." Mayari said, quickening her pace. Legolas easily caught up with her, taking hold of the rope of her wagon, stopping her in her tracks.

"Mayari, do you truly not miss me?" Mayari turned to look at the elf who she had once considered a student -a good friend. "I would think that after all this time that you had been away, you would be eager to chat when we meet."

Yes, she did miss the elven princeling. No, she didn't feel like having a conversation about home -and it was bound to happen, no matter how much she would try to avoid the topic; and given that they were bound to talk about home, they were bound to talk about the King that ruled over their home.

If that was to be the outcome of a chat with the elven prince, then no -she did not want to talk to him.

What convinced her otherwise, though, were his eyes. He shared the same eyes that he had with his father -eyes that once had a hold so strong over her that she once was willing to topple kingdoms for him at his command.

However, she was not that same person anymore. She was now just Mayari, the Wandering Elf. No longer does she want to meddle with monarchs who gave up their ability to feel in exchange for being tied down to the chains of their duty.

Although, she can see in the eyes of the elf in front of her that he was not the same. In them were wonder and mirth -far from the darkness that used to cloud his eyes.

"Alright, I'll bite. You can come with me to my client," Mayari said, and she saw Legolas' eyes light up at that. "However, you are not to speak a word, except for words of condolences, alright? Then once I am done, we can talk."

"Yes, _istoneth nin_."

* * *

Despite elves being blessed with immortality and granted the luxury of escaping the pains of death by sailing to Valinor, they are not immune to this unfortunate outcome that fate and circumstances bring. In times of war, they can meet the end of their life at almost anything -poison, beheading, flaying, one must only name it to be possible. Elves may also starve to death, given that they do not receive the proper sustenance needed for their body. Elves may also die from sickness, especially if the body is too tired to fend off whatever it is that weakens them.

Mortals, in viewing the lives of elves, tend to forget that death does not discriminate. It takes anyone from anywhere, no matter what age or race they come from.

This is the thought that Mayari had always carried with her as she upholds her craft and services -and it is a thought that the elven prince beside her remembered as they walked side by side along the streets of Imladris. True to his word, Legolas indeed did not say anything but words of condolences to the elven family that Mayari had delivered her coffin to. The coffin was for an elleth -one that was younger than both Mayari and Legolas. She had volunteered to be a part of the patrol around the borders of the Hidden Valley. Her family did not worry, since it had been centuries since something unfortunate had happened to a patrol around the Hidden Valley. However, a few days ago, the elleth's patrol group had an unsavoury encounter with a stray band of orcs.

The elleth was gravely injured from the encounter -a nick on her inner thigh had her bleeding out in seconds.

The city of Imladris seemed to gradually grow quiet, as if in silent mourning for one of their fallen sister. A deep blue veil seemed to slowly run over the sky as the sun started to fade, giving way to the light of the moon and stars.

"These orcs are getting bolder as the years pass," Legolas observed as he and Mayari walked through a bridge, coming to a stop to admire the overview of the ethereal city. "I thought that they were only happening at home, but it seems that they are happening in different realms."

"I doubt that the orc sightings and attacks back in the Greenwood have lessened over the years, _neth cóon_. Have you sought out the source of these abominations, yet? Cut off their head?" Mayari asked, taking out her ebony pipe and pouch of tobacco, making quick work of filling the bowl with the dried leaves and pressing it down with a tamper.

"Not yet, I'm afraid. There have been other pressing matters that my father has at hand, and we have not the chance to send out an expedition to abolish the poison of our forest that is Dol Guldur."

"Well, I did warn the King about it a long time ago." Mayari said, the lip of the pipe between hers. She drew in a breath, testing out the packing of the tobacco in the bowl, before striking a match, lighting the leaves up. She drew a gentle breath through the pipe before drawing out a sigh, the stream of smoke wafting up her face. She felt the Old Toby work its wonders through her veins -relaxing her for the conversation that she knew was about to come.

"Yes, and he is now paying for the price of not heeding your advice."

Mayari hummed in agreement and slight satisfaction as she dazed off at the soothing sound of the city, exhaling another puff of smoke. Although a part of her had silently rejoiced at the justice that fate had executed upon the Elven King, it was overpowered by the worry that settled in her heart.

Was he getting enough rest? Was he eating well? A crease between his brows form when he is always in deep worry -is there someone to ease that crease away, or has it gone permanent?

Mayari drew in another breath through her pipe, the sombre elleth was taking everything in -from the soft sound of the falls, to the soft twittering of the birds. She will savor these last moments of peace incarnate for tomorrow, she shall return to the kingdoms of men, where her services are more in need.

"So, what business are you in Imladris for _neth cóon_?"

"I was sent by my father to attend a council-a delegate of Mirkwood on official business."

Ah, still afraid to leave his halls, I see.

"How about your _Ada_ and Naneth? I have not seen them since they have left five decades ago." The elven prince asked.

"I'm afraid I am not an easy one to write to, given that I travel cross country at a short amount of time," Mayari explained. "My mother and father have written to me once. They told me that they were residing in Lothlorien. They have mentioned that they may even sail for Valinor, soon. They can feel the sea calling, and they have grown weary of the forces that infest the Greenwood when they resided there."

At the mention of their home, Legolas' face turned sombre.

"I am not sure if it could even be called that anymore. The forces that persist in our lands is different from those that we have faced hundreds of years ago. They feel more driven, and I am afraid that there is only so much we can do to keep our kingdom safe."

"It is your kingdom, Legolas. I have abandoned all that I hold in that kingdom." Mayari said, her mouth pursing to twist into a grim smirk. The elleth inhaled through her pipe, holding her breath before releasing a puff of smoke through her mouth. Her eyes wandered up to the stars, the distant memories of those flickering lights in the sky feeling cold like the eyes of the ellon she once held in her life.

"You may have, yes," Legolas said, following her gaze on the sky. "But there is no saying if what you have held dear has abandoned its hold." Legolas looks at her knowingly as he nudges her with his shoulder. However, for Mayari, this was not light matter.

It never is, when it comes to the matters of the heart.

"He still waits for you, you know."

"Yes, he waits for me for I have a sentence that I have not yet served in your kingdom, _neth cóon_." Mayari sighs out another puff of smoke. No matter how much Old Toby she smokes, it will never sooth the jitters that wracks through her nerves whenever the topic of home is brought up.

"You know what I mean," Legolas said, turning to face her while leaning on the railing of the bridge they stood on."I see him sometimes, lost in thought as he stares into a suit of armor that he should be sick of seeing by now. It is as if he's waiting for its bearer to unmask their self."

Mayari smiled fondly as she was briefly brought back to memories of her guard duties. Even as she rose up through the ranks in Greenwood's militia, she still had duties that involved serving the king in the throne room, in his private study, in his own bedroom --

No more. No more, you stupid elleth.

"Then your father is the same fool that I have been those years ago," Mayari said, shaking her head as if to will those memories away. "A fool for searching something that is not there."

"You both are fools," Legolas bluntly said, rolling his eyes. "Why do you run from him? Do not say that it is because of that ordeal with the dwarves again -that sentence was lifted after the Battle for Erebor. "

Mayari looked at the city once more, as if searching for an answer that she could tell Legolas. However, she knows that she already has the answers to the prince's questions.

_It's because I'm scared to be disappointed by my expectations again._

_It's because he might not have changed after all this time, and what you're saying is a ploy to get me to join ranks with your kingdom again._

_It's because I'm scared to take another heartbreak -especially if it's from **him**._

Mayari does not say anything for a while, silently smoking her pipe as the elven prince grows weary of waiting for her answer.

"I'm sorry, I must have overstepped _istoneth nin_ ," He said, pushing himself away from the stone railings. "If you may excuse me, I will be taking my leave, now, _mellon nin_ , for we start early in the morrow. "

Legolas patted Mayari's shoulder, followed by a fist on his chest that reached out slightly to the sordid elleth. He had already turned to leave, when Mayari let out an exhale of smoke.

"Legolas," Mayari said, making the elven prince pause in his tracks to turn to face her. "I-…"

Where does she even begin to tell him everything -the turmoil that was stirring in her heart and coursing through her veins?

Mayari smacked her lips, worrying over her lower lip in deep thought.

"Know that I avoid your father not because I want to -but because I have to. It is for my sake that I run, and for his too, I guess."

Mayari turned to look at how the elven prince would take her answer -and it was as how she expected it. The elven prince had a crease between his brows, telling Mayari everything that she needs to know. The elleth worried over her lower lip once more, smiling grimly.

"I did not expect you to understand, either way, _neth cóon_ ," Mayari said, pushing herself away from the stone railings. She placed her fist on her chest, then reaching out to the elven prince with a sad smile. "I pray that you remain safe wherever the Valar may take you, _neth cóon_. Take care." She said, tilting her head a bit, before turning her back on the young prince, pipe between her lips. When she had heard the prince venture far enough, her pace had slowed down until she had altogether stopped walking.

She did not have it in her to return to where she was lodging -not just yet. There was nothing waiting for her there except for a bed that she would not use. No, she would rather stay out here, finding a temporary peace in the city of Imladris rather that close her eyes and submerge herself once more in the dreams that haunt her.

Mayari hopped on the stone railings, finding a comfortable position wherein she sat with feet dangling over the railings. Pipe in hand, she continued to smoke whatever was left of the Old Toby in her pipe. In between the torture from the memories of her and the Elvenking that haunts her in her wake, and the torture from the dreams that plague her nights, she would choose the former.

Mayari looked into the distant, feeling colder as the stars gazed back emptily at her. She sighed as the bittersweet feelings that came with the memories of her love washed over her. The buzz and firre in her veins both from the memories of passion that she had decided to look back on, fueled even further from the Old Toby working through her. However, it will be anything but -a memory to look back unto.

Yes, she would indeed endure this sweet sadistic torture over the real one -for once, those memories that she now considered as her bane was once her salvation.

* * *

_My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor,_

_Kings and queens of all knock on his door._

_Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves -_

_They all come to him…_

_Each one is unique,_

_No two are the same._

_He's made one for himself,_

_One for me, too._

_One of these days, he'll make one for you._

_~ **My Boy Builds Coffins by Florence + the Machine**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have difficulty in understanding the syntax and grammar of Sindarin and Quenya, so if I make a mistake on how I use the words, pointing me out on it is very much appreciated!


End file.
